Force
by Abidos
Summary: De-anon from the kink-meme.  Spain wants something.  Warnings for darkSpain, mentions of torture and rape.  Historical AU, set in the 17th century.


He had always been so sure about how it was supposed to go. Sex was humiliation, it was dominion, it was power. At least among nations. It was the stronger nation showing the other who was in charge. Or, occasionally, a sign of favour and predilection to an obedient subordinate.

Of course he understood that among humans it could be different, there could be affection, and companionship and what not. But they were different.

To be taken was to loose, to be dishonoured, to show weakness. Who would want such a thing?

Then why was his body, his desires, betraying him in this fashion?  
>He could feel it when another body pressed into him, when ,in battle, be it real or in jest, he lost the upper hand and his opponent pounded him in to the floor.<br>Even his mind was betraying him now. At night it would torment and tempt him with images and sensations of hard firm bodies pressing into him, possessing him and using him for their pleasure. And when he woke up in tangled and filthy sheets he would sin again with his dream images still burned in his mind's eye.  
>And it was getting worse. No matter who he took to bed, be it man or woman; or what he did to the nations under his powers, acts and fantasies that used to be part of his darkest passions, he could not find completion like he did in those lonely mornings.<p>

And why not? Had there ever been a thing that he desired that he hadn't got? A fancy not satisfied? His empire stretched all across the good God's earth. There was none alive now who could stand up to him, and only a few buried under the ground who deserved to walk in his shadow. Who deserved to judge him? Who would dare?

But the unworthy ones would, without a doubt. They'd whisper and laugh in dark rooms, and no blood spilt would quiet their insinuations.

He smiled. _Yes_, he knew who he could use. The man would make the perfect toy for this game. And if he deemed it necessary he could cut of his tongue and slit his throat and no-one would think anything more of it.

Spain stood up abruptly, buttoned up is coat and marched down to the dungeons.

As he walked down the stairs the stench of urine and blood assaulted him. From behind hidden doors the occasional scream echoed through the empty halls.  
>The place filled him with satisfaction; this was where his enemies paid for the sin of opposing him.<p>

He reached the final room and stopped. In front of him was a heavy door and behind it his target. Was he sure? No matter the power he had over this man it was still a risk. Was it worth it?  
>He scolded himself. When had he ever turned back? When had he ever doubted? Would the grand empire run away? From <em>this<em> man? Spain would get what he desired, what he was entitled to, and this man would not stand in his way.

"You three, out!" He ordered.

The inquisitors who had been playing a game of cards in one corner of the room stood up.

"I don't care who you're friends with upstairs buddy, but down here..."

The men were chosen for their rough disposition, fine-tuned cruelty and single-mindedness. But Spain wasn't in the mood to tolerate any type of interference. His axe whistled as it flew through the air and cleaved the men's table in two. They ran out of the room.

Reinsured by the small display of force he walked into the cell.  
>It was large and cold. One lonely candle barely helped distinguish the silhouettes of the occupants from the shadows.<br>The fourth torturer looked up from his work.  
>Spain barked at him to get out and this time he was obeyed without hesitation.<p>

"If anyone dares to listen at the door I will make sure _you_ end up next to him."

The man grunted his understanding and disappeared. Spain waited until he heard his footsteps fade.

He looked at the figure in front of him and noted with some amusement the single heavy lidded eye staring back at him. Spain smiled and took some time watching over the inquisitor's handiwork. The man was on his knees, pulled up by his chained arms. His hands were a mess and had obviously been the latest point of focus. Spain was sure he could almost see the bones mending and the flesh pulling back together.  
>A nation's body was truly an amazing thing.<br>He continued his inspection; not worrying if the burning wax of the candle felt on the other's uncovered skin.

"You truly look magnificent this way; no doubt this is how you were meant to be. Never thought you could have been brought so _low_, right? "

Netherlands didn't respond to the taunt.

Spain took his face in his hands and removed some of the grime mixed with blood and tears in a travesty of affection.  
>He stroked the long scar running over the right side of the nation's face, across the space where his eye had been. The Spaniard smiled remembering the day he had made that scar. It had been the day he had put an end to Netherlands's little rebellion. The Dutchman had fallen before his axe and he had taken his deserved revenge on the would-be heretic. Spain had made sure he regretted his rebellion that night, and every other night after that.<p>

That had been years ago now.

"Revel wretched creature. You are going to do me favour and it might just be enough that I allow you to crawl out of this cell and back into the real world."

Netherlands pried his lips open and moved them as if to reply but no sound came out.

Spain pulled his face closer and looked at him. Netherlands seemed to barely focus on him, his eye often wandering or staring into oblivion. The Spaniard pursed his lips in irritation and pulled the Dutchman's head back by his hair.

"Are you listening to me, despojo?"

Netherlands groaned.

Spain tightened the grip on his hair and pulled his head further back.

"Yes!"

Spain let go. Netherlands's voice had sounded raw and broken. Spain considered that it may have been more productive if he had made sure the man had been left alone for a few hours before the interview.

"As I said, I'm going to allow you to do me favour."

Netherlands stared at him intently. Spain was about to hit him when he opened his mouth. It took some effort but he finally managed to speak.

"You killed more than half of my people."

"Not killed them, saved them. For the Lord has said "If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell."

Spain caressed Netherlands's empty eye socket as he cited the holy words. Then he ran his thumb under the nation's good eye.

"And you will please me, less I decide your other half has sinned as well."


End file.
